


Pretend

by mystiri1



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Anal Sex, Anonymous Sex, Community: smut_69, M/M, Promiscuity, Public Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Strangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-08
Updated: 2011-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-14 14:00:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystiri1/pseuds/mystiri1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the dim light of nightclub, the other person could be anyone - and for Cloud, it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretend

Cloud had a routine for the nights he went clubbing. He'd slip out of the barracks with a gym bag in one hand, and head for the train station. He got ready in one of the public restrooms there; if any of his so-called comrades-in-arms saw him dressed like that, he'd never hear the end of it. The bag was stashed in a rented locker, and he turned and headed for a particular nightclub just a few blocks away.

The club was discreetly hidden in a small lane off one of the less-upmarket streets on the Plate. No long queues with velvet ropes or flashy neon signs like so many other nightclubs above-Plate. This place was discreet, to better suit its customers. Only a dimly lit sign by the door announced its presence, and that gave little away: it read 'Hidden', and nothing else. Anybody who came here, already knew.

The bouncer waved him through without even bothering to check ID. Cloud's appearance was enough: his pants were slit and laced down the side to show skin, his top was so thin it was practically transparent and mascara lined his eyes. For once, his hair didn't look so outrageous, sticking up as it did. Cloud was young-looking, but he was also attractive, and that was enough to gain him entry.

He'd heard about this place only a few months after getting through Basic. Barracks life had proven very educational to a naïve boy from Nibelheim, as he was introduced to the idea that girls weren't the only option for sexual intercourse. It was mostly the subject of joking and teasing, but it hadn't taken him long to realise where his own interests lay, especially as the sight of some of his own team-mates in the shower was far more appealing than any of the naked girls in the magazines that got passed around on the sly. And the nature of the jokes and taunts warned him not to let it be known.

Once he was assigned to a regular unit, he came to realise it wasn't completely unknown within the ranks. There were at least two such relationships in his own platoon that he knew of, but they weren't talked about, and even those involved would be just as quick to join in the slurs and innuendoes. He already drew enough bullying because of his size; if he let it be known that he liked other guys, it would just be more ammunition. And there was already an edge to some of the taunts that warned him it could go a lot further than just words.

Then he'd heard about Hidden.

Few of ShinRa's executives even noticed the armed security guards all over the building, their presence was so ubiquitous. When he added in the uniform which hid any distinguishing features and his less-than-intimidating stature, there were days Cloud thought he was just part of the office furniture. But it did mean he overheard things, like two executives discussing what they were going to do on their night off as they took the elevator to the car-park level. They'd probably have been horrified if they realised, but Cloud was interested less in potential leverage and more for his own reasons.

He'd hesitated before going himself, at first due to uncertainty and then because he needed suitable clothes. But frustration and curiosity drove him to it; after the first few nervous visits, it became a regular thing, a much-welcomed release after a long week. Cloud thought he bumped into one of the executives in question a month or two later and gave him a thorough blow job in one of the bathroom stalls as an expression of thanks. Even if he'd been mistaken, the other man had certainly been grateful afterwards.

He supposed he should be horrified at the idea of going to a nightclub and looking for anonymous sex. In Nibelheim, sex was something you weren't supposed to find out about before you married. Most young people still knew something, but the threat of parental – or public – disapproval was enough to discourage much in the way of experimenting, and small town mentalities prevailed. That kind of loose behaviour was what city-folk did, according to the town elders. Cloud thought they really had no _idea_ what kind of loose behaviour certain city folk could get up to with a small-town boy - but then they'd practised a kind of wilful blindness his whole life where he was concerned, and were unlikely to approve of anything he did anyway.

For Cloud, the anonymity offered a feeling of freedom, and a measure of control. It made the first time easier in knowing that his awkward fumblings weren't going to be the subject of mockery down the track, and that he'd probably never have to face the guy again. He didn't have to worry about gossip, because he never gave anybody his name, and although his face might be familiar, nobody here had any interest in being the subject of rumours and speculation. And while he'd spent his whole life being looked down on for his size and appearance, but the looks he got here were admiring.

It was a bit of a heady feeling. Cloud had his pick of partners. He'd picked up several SOLDIERs, and felt a bit of a thrill at the idea of all that strength and power touching him. There were probably also a few who weren't SOLDIERS, before he learned about the contacts that were popular on the club circuit, reflecting the ambient light in a way that mimicked the shine of mako eyes. Now he knew that if they changed colour, they weren't real. He liked knowing one way or the other, but the pretence didn't bother him.

That was the other thing the anonymity was good for: pretending. Low lights, no names exchanged, and the person he was with might be anybody. Cloud was good at imagining things. He'd choose somebody for a superficial resemblance and in his head it would be one of the guys from Basic that he'd liked and never had the courage to approach who was taking him now, touching him so eagerly. Or perhaps one of those who sneered at him. Once he'd even chosen someone who reminded him of Mayor Lockhart. He'd not been particularly attractive or skilled, but there had been an odd vindictive pleasure in it when Cloud imagined the Mayor's reaction to what he was doing. Disgust and outrage were likely to be part of it, but his last few years in Nibelheim, there had been an added element to the scornful looks the self-important man had given him. Something Cloud only understood now, and made him hate the hypocritical official even more.

No wonder he'd not wanted Cloud anywhere near his daughter.

Sex wasn't the only thing Cloud came here for. He enjoyed the dancing as well, sometimes more. He spent his training hours struggling to make his body do what he wanted, what the trainers wanted, and failing horribly. His muscles resisted his conscious directions, jerky and awkward; never fast enough, never strong enough. He left the training fields with his body feeling heavy and clumsy, like something he wore rather than something he was. Dancing was completely different.

When he danced he could just let go, let his body follow the rhythm of the music and move in ways that felt right, not wrong. It was a wonderful feeling, moving and not-thinking. Sometimes he'd dance with others, sometimes alone. Cloud could spend several hours on the dance floor before looking for anything else, and sometimes he just went home enjoying the tired but loose feeling that came from a more pleasant form of physical exertion than training drills.

Tonight he headed straight for the dance floor. He lost himself in the feeling of movement, the heat of bodies close to his, the heavy beat underlying the music.

Cloud wasn't sure how long he'd been dancing when he felt another body brush against his back in a way that was subtly suggestive. He didn't pull away, just waited to see what they'd do, and it moved closer, matching his movements so that it seemed every beat bought them nearer to being pressed hard against each other. Then it pulled back a little, and Cloud reached back to clutch at a muscled thigh, hard and firm under a layer of leather. He almost hummed in approval as he slid his hand along it.

His partner moved closer once again, as hands found his hips. He looked down to see long fingers, pale in the dim light of the dance floor where strobes of colour provided enough to make out occasional glimpse of outlines, rather than any details. The newcomer was taller than him, he could feel that in the slide of bodies, the way those long thighs brushed his ass and the brush of something else against his lower back. He felt lean and powerful and quietly dominating, taking control of their movements and guiding them in the direction he wanted. Cloud was perfectly happy to follow.

Fingers trailed upwards, skimming towards his ribs then down again, stopping as they reached the low waistband of his pants. One hand slid around to his stomach, flattened there and pressed, warm and firm, urging him back as knees bent slightly, allowing the erection he could feel trapped behind tight leather to rub against the top of his ass. Cloud raised himself on his toes, arching into it, the sound he made lost in the din as hips rocked against him, blatant, demanding.

Suddenly he squirmed away, pulling out of the embrace enough to twist around. This brought him face-to-face with his partner's chest. He smoothed his hands over it, feeling the solid planes of muscle underneath, feeling a beat that didn't match the heavy pounding of the music. The fabric of the shirt had an almost silky feel to it and he pressed his cheek into it, nuzzling suggestively. From the corner of his eye, he saw long, pale strands of hair, and when he looked up, he caught a flash of green. He looked back down before he could see that shine change its hue; he knew who he wanted this to be in his head, and had no intention of derailing his fantasy, however unlikely it might be. So he closed his eyes and continued to dance.

They swayed and rocked and rubbed against each other, sometimes losing the beat of the music as a more urgent rhythm tried to break through. He felt soft brushes against his arms as long hair swung with their movements. A leg slid between his, and Cloud moaned wordlessly as hands cupped his ass, encouraged him to ride it. He was hot, and hard, and ready for more than just a little frottage on the dance floor. It was an effort to pull himself away once again, to open his eyes and reorient himself in the dim confines of the club as his hand groped blindly for another.

The bathroom was almost traditional for such encounters, but they would have to requisition a stall for any kind of privacy, and interruptions would break the fantasy just as much as the bright glare of fluorescent lights on tile. The spot Cloud chose instead was a little nook just behind the seldom-used stage. The occasional flash of lights from the dance floor could be seen around the edge of the structure, but little else.

There was a small pocket hidden just inside the front of his pants, concealed in the slight hollow between the curve of one hip and his groin. He slipped two fingers inside now, fished carefully, and pulled out the foil packet he was searching for. Pressing it into a hand, he leaned forward, bracing himself against the wall in a position that was blatant invitation.

For a moment, there was nothing. Then a hand glided over one hip again, a body pressed closed to his. Lips found the curve of his neck, feathered across skin before closing over a pulse and sucking hard. Cloud cried out, tilting his head to allow better access as another hand cupped him, worked his cock through the front of his pants. The sound devolved into a breathless whimper.

Fingers worked the top button free and edged the zip down carefully before dipping inside. Cloud bucked into the touch, and a voice teased his ear, murmuring, “Easy.”

It should have been wrong, but somehow, it was just right. Low and authoritative, the hushed tone hiding any other characteristics, and he thought back to the assembly he'd attended on completing Basic. The figure on the platform, tall, strong, standing to one side as Heidegger rambled on. The graceful way he moved as he strode to the podium, the smooth tones of his voice as he gave his own brief address. They'd left down the centre aisle, before the sergeants dismissed the troops standing there. He passed by Cloud, and the boy got a close-up look at his idol, separated only by the distance of a few infantrymen: the brilliant green of his eyes, the swing of long silver hair as he strode along, the glimpse of a hard, muscled chest showing in the open V of his long black coat.

In person, Sephiroth was fifty times more eye-catching than on a recruitment poster, a hundred times more impressive than the grainy newspaper photo which was Cloud's first ever glimpse of him. The man was beautiful, in a way that had nothing to with femininity; there was something about the way he moved, the way he held himself, that radiated power and control, and made Cloud's breath catch in his throat while heat pooled in his groin. Now as long fingers gripped his length, moving in slow, teasing strokes, it was his hands Cloud was imagining.

He'd seen him maybe a half-dozen times since, passing by Cloud in the halls while he was standing guard duty. Sephiroth never noticed him, of course; he was one more faceless MP guarding some random door or another on Company orders, while the silver-haired General would never go unnoticed, where-ever he was. But Cloud had his full attention now as strong hands roamed over his body, stroked him, teased him. That perfect body leaned over his, hips pressed into him, the hard swell of aroused flesh rocking against his still-clothed ass. Fingers toyed with a nipple through his shirt, then dipped and slid under the fabric to resume their teasing once again. They pinched and twisted, hard enough to hurt just a little, but soft enough to feel good, too. Cloud squirmed, wanting to thrust forward and push back and arch all at once.

Sephiroth's hands left him for a moment, the warmth at his back moving away, and then they were trying to ease his pants lower. Cloud wiggled in a desperate attempt to help, mentally cursing the tightness of them, the laces that were more decorative than useful, because he was already at a point where he didn't want to stop for anything. The pants made it to his thighs, and as far as he was concerned that was far enough. And the general seemed to agree, as fingers dipped along the crease of his ass, between the cheeks, seeking the taut little rosebud of his entrance.

Breath hissed between his teeth as they found it, already slick and prepared. They circled it, rubbed lightly, then pressed in.

He felt the warmth of air against his cheek as that voice murmured in his ear, “You are eager for this, aren't you?”

It had been at least an hour since Cloud had lubed and stretched himself back in a bathroom stall at the station, probably more, but two fingers slid in with little resistance. He pushed back against them, arched and moaned when a third joined them. His own fingers clawed at the smooth surface of the wall, clung to it for support as they were withdrawn.

Then strong hands were gripping his hips, lifting him, one hand still slick, and he could feel the blunt head of Sephiroth's cock nudging at his entrance. It pushed in slowly, feeling hot even through the latex that sheathed it and Cloud moaned as he was stretched open around it. Fingers could never compare to this feeling. “Please,” he begged, wanting more.

Sephiroth surged forward, burying himself deep inside with one quick thrust, and Cloud cried out. For a few endless moments, all he could do was breathe, frantic and gasping, trying to adjust to the sudden fullness. He felt pinned between the hands that held him so firmly there were sure to be bruises and the cock inside him, the wall proving to be little help in supporting him. Then Sephiroth began to move.

It wasn't gentle, but Cloud wasn't complaining. Each thrust rocked him upward on his toes, and he collapsed forward, feeling his cheek rub against the wall as his lover fucked him mercilessly. One arm slid around his waist, pulling him back so that a hard chest rubbed against his upper back. The sounds of pleasure Sephiroth made were low and deep, growling vibrations that rolled through them both, something that was more felt than heard. His own were high and strangled by the lack of air he could suck into his lungs as his whole body drew tighter, coiling around the pleasure building deep inside. Long hair brushed against his shoulder, his upper arms as that silver head bent once more and teeth found the curve of his neck, clamping down hard.

That was all it took to send Cloud over. The tension broke in what felt like an explosion racing up his spine, arching his back as the space behind his eyes went white. The world disappeared, and all he could feel was the arm tightening around his ribs, keeping him upright; the mouth hot and hungry on his neck; the hard length that slammed inside him, movements becoming frenzied as Sephiroth found his own release.

Reality was slow to return. Gradually, Cloud became aware of his surroundings. The club, the music, the dancing that continued undisturbed and uninterrupted just metres away from his hidden little trysting spot. The softening flesh inside him that didn't, unfortunately, belong to Sephiroth – although his unknown lover had an impressively long sword all the same, he thought with a slightly hysterical giggle. That had been good, and he was tempted to ask for a name so that he could do this again sometime, but that would have been breaking his own rules. So he waited, body limp in the aftermath of sex, as the stranger carefully withdrew, then he stepped away from the wall and what was probably a sticky puddle on the floor.

Cloud straightened his own clothes without turning around, ran a slightly shaky hand through his hair. When he turned, he was already looking at the club beyond, not at the tall figure who stood a little off to one side. He angled his head in that direction, stopping before he really saw anything. “Thanks,” he said, unsure as to whether he could be heard, and started for the door.

He picked his way through the crowd of dancers, and although every now and then discomfort added a hitch to his stride, his hips swung with a loose rhythm that screamed sexual satiation. He didn't look back, or he might have seen the narrowed eyes that followed him as he left. Eyes that had no trouble picking out plenty of details in the dim light of the club.

Eyes that glowed a steady, brilliant green.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #58: Strangers


End file.
